


The Broads

by iwantachurchgirl



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Character Growth, F/M, Fluff, I think I remembered to, OFC is a jerk, Slow Burn, Vulgar Language, but I added in character growth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwantachurchgirl/pseuds/iwantachurchgirl
Summary: A pretty girl visits Tulsa, Oklahoma for the summertime, and she doesn't expect to meet anyone like Ponyboy Curtis.
Relationships: Ponyboy Curtis/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. He's Not Half Bad

I Want To Hold Your Hand blared throughout the guest bedroom as I twirled and fingered the hem of my dress.

The patio pink material is not necessarily soft but thin enough to give the impression of so. The straps were thin as well, the width the same as a pencil and the skirt ended right at my knees. Perfect for this Tulsan summer heat.

I spun around again on the toes of my white heels. _I’m practically tonight’s show_ , I grinned.

I descended into the family room where Kimberly sat, braiding her short hair.

Kimberly’s an only child like me.

That’s where the semblance ends.

My black hair flowed straight down to below my breast. My facial features were feminine but sharp. Daily, in the morning, I put on makeup, touch it up throughout the day, and wipe it off only when I’m going to take a shower. I matured into a slightly curvy figure, hips wider than my waist, and breasts noticeable with the right clothes.

Kimberly still has her baby weight in her cheeks that added to her overall soft features. Her nose was like a button and her brown eyebrows and caramel hair unaltered. She’s still adorable. With her expressive wide, green eyes that exposed her feelings at the fly before her mouth had the opportunity to.

For example, upon our first meeting, when she visited my mother’s and my home in New York, she said “Nice to meet you”. Her bulging eyes and skyline-high eyebrows said, however, “You intimidate me”.

Similar to how her eyes now. She looked at my heels clad feet, sun dress shaping my figure, bombshell hair, and repeat. “Let’s split?” I smiled. She nodded without a word.

I pulled into the drive in and scanned the scene. It was a plethora of Mustangs and Pontiacs and Firebirds in every available color out there. I, myself, drove a sleek, black Aston Martin my parents gifted to me for my sixteenth birthday back in May.

Before the parking lot were lines of aluminum chairs. They were a comfortable distance from the wide screen and the speakers that were attached to either side of the white wall.

“You want any snacks or drinks?” I checked my watch. It would be a good twenty minutes before the movie started.

“I would like some popcorn and a Caramilk bar and some water please,” she gave me a meek smile and spoke in a timid voice.

I shuffled out the car and bent down, careful of my dress. “You don’t want to come?”

Her voice peaked in tone but lowered in volume. “I like watching the previews,” and a cute smile blossomed on her mouth. I didn’t mean to but my own countenance reflected hers.

“Okay,” I nodded to the backseat, “Feel free to grab a blanket if you get cold and keep this door locked while I’m gone. If anyone tries to get in, you have full permission to use my keys,” I took them out the ignition, “And use said intruder’s mouth as a lock. Got it?” I offered a smile, tossing the ring of keys to her.

She giggled and my lips grew wider in the expression. “Got it.”

I went on my way to the concession stands I spotted when driving into the theatre. Behind my back were catcalls and demands that made me tighten my grasp on my handbag. My hand slid over the latch but I won’t run. _I won’t even quicken my pace._ I only exhaled at the sight of the various stands and got in the shortest line, the drink stand.

Upon the click of my heels against the asphalt, the patron in front looked at the source. His face, from what I gathered, wasn’t terrible. I checked my watch. _Sixteen_ _minutes_. I stepped out of line a bit and gave up on counting the number of heads after ten. Ten was nowhere close to where I was. Might as well use the time.

I tapped on the boy’s shoulder and reaffirmed my memory. The boy was, in fact, not terrible. _Quite handsome actually_. His brown hair was longer than what I’m used to. It was also slicked back and his clothes were a bit tattered, but it added to his natural handsomeness all the same. I could feel my heartbeat picking up its pace and I shot into conversation.

“Hi, my name’s Jacqueline, but everyone calls me Jackie,” I offered my right hand and smiled. I tilted my head to the right and widened my eyes a bit, feigning innocence. “I’m new in town.”

His eyes glazed over my body and instead of recoiling or relishing in the action, confusion nestled in my head at his expression. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes hardened in that split second of checking me over. “Ponyboy,” he returned the handshake. That’s an original one.

I let my smile soften a bit. “Any story behind that name, Ponyboy?” We took a step forward as the line shortened and Ponyboy turned his body towards me.

“Not really,” he shrugged, grinning. “My parents were just creative people.” _Were?_ _Better steer clear of that._

“Well, Ponyboy, how many drinks are you buying tonight?” The line shortened. I stepped closer to his side.

“Just one,” he scratched his neck and looked around. Boys were staring and commenting as they often did, but not in their usual hormonal excitement, but morose. They were scanning the handsome boy beside me as if I was theirs. I turned back to Ponyboy before I let the annoyance grow to an unstoppable standard. “You?” _Awww, he’s nervous._

“Two.” He looked disappointed. Surprise bloomed on his face overtaken by dismay then a fake aloofness. “For my little sister and I,” I elaborated. He brightened, shoulders and voice and all. _How pathetic_. “Tell you what, Ponyboy,” I dug through my handbag and pulled out three dollars. “Get two waters, a large popcorn, and three Caramilk bars, and then find a black Aston Martin in the lot. Second row from the front near the picnic tables.” I enclasped his right hand around the bills, and I stepped closer into his chest. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I watched as his brown eyes grew wider. “Maybe, just maybe,” I smirked, “I’ll let you third wheel.” I swept passed the lines of people and continued even in the rows of cars.

In the car, Kimberly made herself comfortable. She’s reclined the cushion seats to an 180-degree position. Her arms were underneath her head, eyes closed, and she looked quite warm with the wool blanket on top her body. I knocked on the window.

At my appearance, she sprung up to a sitting position. She fumbled with my keys. She dropped it onto the floor and picked it up, finally unlocking the door.

I rolled my eyes but made sure she could see my smile. “You like the previews you said?”

She poked out her tongue, smiling. “Where’s the food?” Her smile disappeared.

I got into the driver’s seat and picked up a blanket from the back for myself. “Don’t worry, I hired us a delivery boy.” I reclined my seat. “So, Kimberly, you’re thirteen, right?”

She nodded, shuffling onto her side to look at me. “That’s what? Eighth grade?” She nodded once again. “How’s school? Is it as annoying as school in NYC?”

She laughed. “Yeah, my math teacher is the worst!” She started to joke but as the saying goes, every joke has some truth to it. “He can’t teach. It’s like, _hel-lo-oo-o_ , if I became a bookkeeper, I should be able to keep books, _ri-ight_? If I become a teacher, I _should_ be able to teach? Should I not!” She threw her hands in the air.

This is the most outspoken I’ve heard of the girl. _Good for her_. “If you need any help with anything at all, my door’s open.” I smiled. “And I mean anything. Math, English, teachers, boys, girls, anything, just knock.” Her eyes shined in admiration and I soaked in the feeling.

“Thanks, Jackie,” she beamed. I let the comfortable silence settle in the car but I could read the anxiety in the young girl. She was biting her lip and crossed her arms under her blanket. “Anything?” If the car wasn’t silent, I wouldn’t have heard her. Her voice sounded like spring breeze personified.

“I wouldn’t say otherwise, Kimberly.” I asserted.

“Okay,” she exhaled, closing her eyes. I felt my hands become slightly sweaty at her nervous behavior. I refused the desire to cross my arms and forced them to stay by my sides. “H-how do you,” she fumbled with the edge of the blanket, “talk to a guy?”

Ohhhhhhhhhh! _Ohhhhhh_. This is my arena.

It took a lot of embarrassment to be where I am though.

“Well, talking to a guy is actually very easy. Now hear me out here, don’t give me that face!” I grinned at her doubt at my words and poked her cheek, prompting her own gentle smile. “What people really fear is that reality won’t live up their expectations. The fear doesn’t go away even when you’re older.” She looked away and her eyesight was directed out the windshield. She focused all her senses on processing my words. “Whoever this guy is, talk to him. Learn from the experience, that’s all I can tell you. We can compare notes when you do.” A knock outside.

Ponyboy was bent next to my window and he held higher his arms full of food and drinks. “It’s the delivery boy,” I smiled at her, glad the serious moment was put to its end.

I downed the car window and leaned on my forearms on the window sill. “Delivery boy, would you like a tip for your services? Or a seat in Tulsa’s newest and hottest available auditorium seats?” I wiggled my eyebrows.

“Uhhh,” his light eyes scanned the passenger seat and empty backseats. “Tip?” His lips quirked up.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the snacks from him. Handing the three bars to Kimberly over my shoulder, I nodded to the back. “Get in, loser.” I moved out and let him shuffle into the backseat. He was a bit too tall for the seat, and he needed to slink down a bit to space his head away from the roof. He spread his legs apart to make himself more comfortable in the little space there is. I moved back into the car.

I turned to the backseat, “Ponyboy, this is Kimberly.” I gestured to her and turned to the anxious Kimberly. Her eyes were wide and her mouth looked like it was flatlining. Maybe bringing an older, handsome boy into the car was a terrible idea but then again, is this the worst thing to happen to a thirteen-year-old? “Kimberly, this is Ponyboy.” I gestured to him.

And the product of Ray Bradbury’s work started to play on the large screen, conveniently on time.


	2. Does He Blush?

The projection dulled and automatically the lot livened up in noise and vigor. Cars started to jolt alive, people in the chairs started to pack up their things, it seemed that the movie had no impact on the audience.

“Well, guys, that was a happy ending, huh?” Kimberly yawned, moving up her seat. Ponyboy’s face was stuck in a grimace, still staring at the screen.

“Beatty never pulled a gun on Guy.” He said in astonishment.

A corner of my lips turned upwards in bitterness. “There was a Faber somewhere in the story too.” I started the car once I put the keys into ignition. A car was blocking my path, already in its midst of moving out.

“You’ve read the book?” We met eyes through the rearview mirror.

“Sort of my obligation too, it was part of the English curriculum.” Kimberly yawned once again, shimmying into her seat and blanket. I checked my watch. _Ten thirty-two. The car’s no longer there._ I started to move out.

“You need a ride, Ponyboy?” I cleared the tiredness out my throat and checked behind the car.

“If you could.” Exhaustion settled and anew energy ran through my body. His eyesight prickled the side of my face and I blinked tiredness from my eyes. I smoothed out my clothes, and then I moved my hair out of my face.

“Of course! I mean, I need to know where to pick you up tomorrow at three.” We finally reached the outskirts of the parking lot. Ponyboy’s sputtering in his seat.

“W-what?” I took delight in his caught in headlights expression. Like a bunny caught stealing carrots from the carrot jar.

“I mean-“ I smiled gently, “If that’s okay with you?”

“Uhhhhhhh, yeah?” His forehead scrunched up and leaned back into his seat, staring at the still asphalt.

“Great!” I wonder if he's the type to blush. It’s too dark to see if he is now. “Now, Ponyboy, don’t keep me on the edge of my seat,” tease dripped my words, “Do we go right or left?” We’ve been in the same spot for about thirty seconds.

“Bye, Ponyboy!” I hollered as he walked backwards to his front door. He still bore that stunned emotion in his eyes but I could see excitement peep through.

“Catch you tomorrow, Jackie,” he smiled, turning on his feet, and hopping up the steps of his porch.

As he opened the door, he stopped in his way so we could exchange final waves, and he disappeared into the house.

I went on way to the Otis’ home. “What was that!” Kimberly screeched.

“That was the human interaction you were so inquisitive about earlier.” I prepared myself for the next question. Maybe one about my methods. Another about what was said. Possibly why I chose him out of the countless bachelors at the drive-in tonight.

“No, I mean you talking to a greaser! He’s good for nothing! He lives on the east side, Jackie, the east side!” She grabbed onto my shoulder and started to shake me.

“Whoa, girlie! What was that right there? English? Was that supposed to be that? What do you mean by ‘greaser’?” The young girl was aghast and small realization came over me. She wasn’t surprised at the presence of a handsome boy in the car (or at least, that wasn’t the primary cause of her lip biting and fumbling).

“Greasers are the poor people who do nothing but cause trouble for us good folk in Tulsa. They start fights, steal, kill, drink, just downright act bad. They live on the east side, and we live on the west. And if Daddy had enough money, they wouldn’t be living in Oklahoma at all.” So, this was a classist thing, and greater yet, _Daddy_ taught her these values.

I shook my head, recalling memories of New York. Partying and mingling resulted in more invites to new parties and networking furthermore. “Don’t worry about me, Kim,” I patted the handbag on my lap. She doesn’t look so convinced. “I’m packing.”

“What? You have a heater!” She squealed and the Tulsan breeze seemed much sharper despite the car behind closed off.

“A what?” She explained the terminology. A firearm.

“Hell no! I have a knife is all. Trust me when I say this, everyone rather be shot than stabbed.” She flinched at my terminal word. “You’ve proved my point.”

She was biting her lip in a slight pout and underneath her long eyelashes, her eyes seemed to beg. “Listen,” I looked back onto the road and then glanced once over to her. “I wouldn’t be inviting him out to eat in _broad daylight_ if he made me feel uncomfortable. You can trust me, right Kim?”

She considered my words and nodded in silent defeat. “And if you could please, Kim, look at me for a moment.” We stopped at a red light.

“I trust you won’t tell my mom and your dad, right?” She nodded a slow pace. “You’re a cool kid,” I smiled, offering my pinky.

She agreed on that promise and the light turned green. We went on our way.


	3. He's My Tour Guide

“So you _don’t_ have to memorize the unit circle?” Poor girl sounds like I killed her dog. Kimberly’s mouth dropped to the desk and her head close to falling onto the surface. I remembered her tiny rant from yesterday and asked a simple question: What sort of things do you have trouble with?

With a prompt "Everything" and a bit of digging from my part, she finally answered trigonometry. Every girl's foe at my school as well, me included. Over breakfast, I persuaded her to try some problems alongside me. We did a brief review of what she's already learned, I stood back while she correctly evaluated some functions, and soon into the session, I noticed she constantly referred back to her unit circle paper. She told me that her Honors Math teacher required his students to memorize the circle, not unlike my own math teacher, but she only memorizes it for the test then forgets it all.

“For the most part, yes, just memorize the three pairings and the directions it goes. From there on, it’s simply logic,” my voice was slow. Careful. Like ointment on a burn.

She didn’t respond orally. Kimberly only let her head fall with a loud thud, and I figured it was time for me to depart to my own room.

I slipped out from my white nightgown and gray knit over-the-knee socks, leaving me only in my undergarments. I picked up the two wooden hangers and held the outfits against me. I was thinking either another dress but this one a sheath with small buttons running vertically in the midline. If I chose this outfit, I would tie my hair up in a ponytail braid with a white ribbon and wear white kitten heels. I looked the type of girl mothers would be satisfied to see on their son’s arm.

My other option is a thin white turtleneck tucked into black cotton velvet pants. The pants cut off to reveal black T-Strap heels. It molded my body finely, and with a bit of work on my eyeliner, I could look even more titillating. _It's the subtle details_. A knock on my door.

“Come in,” I said. I am going to this guy’s house even if for a second, I’ll go with the former.

I met my mother’s eyes in her reflection through the framed mirror. “Hey,” she leaned against the doorway, “You look pretty.”

My reflection smirked back at me. “You knock on my door to tell me the obvious?” I buttoned my pants.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “You got my face, Baby, I gave you my pretty. I just came in here to ask if you could come dress shopping this Monday at nine.”

I nodded, awaiting her leave.

To my shock, she strolled in and sat on my bed. I continued to tie my hair with an elastic band, adding a white ribbon as its final touch. “So, you going out?”

How to approach this I wonder. I nod, my words slow as I considered the possibilities. She calls me a slut and a whore. She grounds me forever. She forces me to wear a trash bag for the rest of my life. She trusts me. “Met someone yesterday. Coincidentally, he was hired as a tour guide right as we met, I mean what are the chances?” I dusted nonexistent dust off my tummy and finally turned to my mother. I gave her a smile and immediately directed to the door.

“Wait!” I stopped, cringing. We came close together as I turned and she walked towards me. “So, it's a he?” She asked.

I should've lied. Worry rose in me and I imagined my organs drowning in its acidity. “Mom, he's a respectful, fine gentleman. You know he offered to pick me up in his carriage with my own personal maid du jour?” I continued my stroll through the door and down the stairs and I hear her gentle steps on the carpet, wooden floor, and steps behind me.

I paused at the front door and she subsequently followed.

"Be safe, okay?" She started to brush strands of hair behind my ear and spoke softly, "You're so beautiful."

I truly looked at her. I see her everyday but I don't take the seconds to really look at her and how's she's aged right before me. I skimmed through her yearbook one before. She and Dad were some attractive teenagers. I look just like her when she was my age except instead of my chocolate eyes, she looked with teal ones. Now, I can see tiny fine lines around her eyes. Her pink lips were thinner than before. She still has a beautiful smile though.

"I will, Mom. And I'll try not to steal your thunder at the wedding," I winked.

I pulled up in front of the house and the daylight revealed what last night could not. The paint was chipping off the white boards. The grass were dying. The porch furniture- the rusty, metal table and its two matching chairs- was exhausted of its money's worth. I knocked on the door. It wasn't a long wait when Ponyboy opened the door and closed it behind him. "Hey Jackie," he smiled. He leaned back on the door, hands behind him, grabbing onto the doorknob.

"Hey Ponyboy," I took special care into saying his name. I let every syllable drip like honey onto the floor and turned without warning to walk to the car. "Can you drive, Ponyboy?" My voice reverted to normal. The often tempting state.

"Yeah?"

"Good." I turned but continued to walk towards the car. I gently moved my feet backwards against the concrete. I threw him my keys. "Show me what Tulsa has to offer." I opened the passenger's seat door and sat down and watched as he jogged around the hood to get the driver's seat, beaming.

He paused in the chair, taking in the new perspective of an interior Aston Martin. He moved around in the cream seat. He brushed the smooth surface of the head dash. His hand grasped around the shift firmly and he moved his hands onto the hand wheel, feeling the thin feature. He moved onto his side and looked at his seat yesterday. His brown eyes darted to the dials then finally captured my own. "You know," he shuffled to a sitting position, pointing a thumb backwards, "This seat is much more comfortable than the napkin you gave me yesterday." I smirked.

"Better watch yourself Ponyboy, this is a temporary promotion. Simply tour guide's rights." I pointed at his seat and crossed my arms, looking out into the neighborhood. His house wasn't much different from his neighbors. The same deteriorating painting and dying land but his house seemed to be in the best condition out of the sort which isn't saying much to be truthful. A pang of pity washed over my body.

"You have rodeos where you come from?" He started the car in awe. Entranced by the sudden liveliness in my car, he started to graze the dash again for the hint of vibration.

"New York and no." We started to take on foreign roads but Ponyboy seemed to be well acquainted with them. "What is it like? A bunch of hotshots riding bulls and swinging their lassos in the air?"

"I can tell you or I can show you, Jackie." He stole a glance at me and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking time out your day to check out my writing! When I work up this morning and read "Hits: 4", my heart swelled at the fact that people actually enjoyed what I written! My heart especially goes out to the guest who left a kudos on my work! Y'all made me so happy!


	4. Ponyboy? No, Human Jackass

The rodeo was boisterous with activity, easily observed by the action in the parking lot. It was difficult for Ponyboy to find a spot with all the incoming cars and parked trailers. Some adults and the more refined individuals were lingering around in and by their cars, drinking till their heart's content. Hooting and hollering and inwardly begging for a hangover.

The rodeo itself was a fenced off park. Kids screamed as they ran around and parents shouted at them as they chased after them. Babies were crying. Dust was thick on the ground and filled the air and I sneezed and coughed it out my lungs and nose. Vendors were shouting for a try at their game or a look at their product. I brushed past lingering eyes and unapologetic shoulders and I stepped closer into Ponyboy's side. "It's not always like this." His voice was nice to focus on rather than the chatter of the crowd. "Usually we only got the jockey races but the fair's on. You eat yet?" The stadium was easy to spot despite being far from it. The sea of gray seats clashed against turquoise blue afternoon sky, and I yearned for the air far from the dusty floor.

But I also could eat. I shook my head.

"Hot dogs?" he nodded towards where the stand located. Off, we went to eat cheap on-demand food and a seat in the stands for the jockey race.

We didn't talk sitting down. Clearly, we underestimated just how starved the either of us were as we stuffed the dime priced hot dogs in our mouths. I chewed and drank as he swallowed and sipped between bites without pause, watching as the coordinators on the field prepared for the race. It tasted cheap and overpriced. But it sat well with my palette at the time.

I was eyeing Ponyboy's fries while using a napkin to wipe the ketchup off my lips when a voice caught my attention. A rowdy one. Child-like and lighthearted.

An older boy with slicked back hair and long sideburns hollered out Ponyboy's name. He gamboled up the steps and sat on his lap, slinging his arm, while the darker boy hung back. He stood by with his hands in his jean jacket pockets, watching his friend pop off like firecrackers. "Whew, Ponyboy!" He pulled his head into his armpit, and ruffled his hair. "Is this why you backed out digging it with us? 'Cause you talked up a broad?" His eyes ran down my dress to my toes and into my eyes, and I would've taken his actions in stride if not for his sideburns. He's been blessed with that face and he chooses to disgrace himself with that hairstyle.

"Well, maybe Ponyboy should teach you something." My stomach felt full. I wrapped the half-eaten dog in its foil and set the meal aside and adjusted the skirt of my dress.

The mysterious boy aired out a boisterous laugh. "Ponyboy?" He pointed. "This kid?" He threw his head back, cackling and kicking his feet like a toddler. "You's a funny broad, dame! Why you hanging around with a kid like Pony?" I perked an eyebrow at the said subject who rolled his eyes.

"This is Two-Bit and Johnny," he nodded to the respective boys. "They're friends of mine." 

Johnny exuded awkwardness from just his eyes alone. They fleeted around the place and once he saw that I was seeing him, they bulged. He crossed his arms and his Adam's apple bounced in his throat. I could imagine a lamb in his place strangely.

I stood up and dusted off my outfit, rearranging my hair back into its place in a quick moment. "My name is Jackie. It's nice to meet you, Johnny," I shook his hand with a broad smile. He meekly took it and lacked all the strength of a proper handshake. I had to remind myself to smile.

"And you're here, Two-Bit?" I stayed by the younger boy's side, grinning at his friend's expense.

"Aww, come on Jackie, no hand for me?" Two-Bit pouted, still sat in the lap of Ponyboy.

I grabbed my meal and lemonade and waved them in the air, mocking his countenance. I set down my things to the right of Ponyboy and waved over Johnny, "Come sit, Johnny!" I pat the seat to my right and Two-Bit moved over to the aisle seat I deserted. Johnny moved slowly around our legs to get to his place. Once he's settled, I start to learn about the handsome boy next to me. "So Johnny, do you enjoy watching the races or betting over them?"

He does the slightest shake of his head. "Only Two-Bit gambles, not me." Johnny's eyes went past my own and I turned to see Ponyboy already looking at the two of us. He sported a slight frown as the subject of our talks talked his ear off. Something about a pie and a cop from what I understood, he was too out of breath from laughing to be understood. "I'm jus' here for the race and Dally." He nodded to the tracks where a bustle of people were preparing for the race.

"Is Dally another friend of you three?" His eyes glued on to the tracks.

"Yeah," he nodded, pointing. "He's number seven. In red." Even from this distance, I can describe him as tall. His white breeches gave the impression of his legs as long and lean. His merlot silks made his shoulders seem broad and his chest wide. His gait, upright and relaxed, made him all the more attractive. _He's good-looking from the shoulders down at least._

Two-Bit quit his yapping. Silence settles over us four. The entire stadium noticeably lowers in volume. It was clear as the jockeys all mounted their horses that the races were soon to start. Crew members used long rods, at its end attached wide brushes, to clean the tracks of its kicked-up dust. The path became smooth for the horses' using. The voice of Elvis cut off from the stadium speakers and an announcer blared throughout the enclosure. "Happy Sunday, everyone! It's everyone's favorite time of day and that time is the- _pause_ \- stallion racesssss!"

An hour later, the switchover of jockeys terminated the back-to-back races I've become so accustomed to seeing. It was like an altered state of consciousness. That first shot of the gun turned on a switch within everyone. The onlookers tried to send their affections and desperations to the jockeys and horses over themselves. They were verbal with their bodies too. All the boys stood up at one point, the quiet boy on my right included, to call out their thoughts. People were hollering, babies crying, winners dancing in the stands, and the energy was always there even in the background when came the finish line of a race.

Simply imagining the perspective of the jockeys drains my energy. Here, it's energetic and lively in the stands. There, it's debilitating. The stallions run at least forty miles an hour those seconds on the track. They kick dust up into the air and by the time the dust is floating back onto the floor, the horses are already far ahead in the same cycle. The jockeys hunch over their mounts, trying to simultaneously maintain their position and minimize their horse's time. _How do they breathe when all they can is dust?_ Dally won quite a few races. Six out of the tens. _His body is clearly strong._ He has enough energy to keep up with his winning mount, and I try to imagine his face.

Two-Bit, I've come to learn over the hour, feels like the sea. Cool, relieving, but suffocating all at once.

I don't like how easy it is for him to dominate the conversation. How seamless he made me forget I abhorred his loud behavior. But in the break after a particular race, an inebriated man was raging about how he lost twenty dollars because "That dumbass Number One lost!" An officer walked over when Two-Bit intercepted. His loud cries brought new chaos to the captivating man with inept decision-making skills. He cried, grasping onto the officer's shoulders and falling to his knees. He shook him and he hugged his legs. He turned and faked sniffles, pointing to the loud man. He looked like a man acting like a boy. In truth, he is that. He pointed at him and hollered over the stunned silence of onlookers. "Help, Officer! One of the horses escaped!" He stood back up, hugging the officer, in dramatic hysterics.

The drunk man heard and boy was he pissed. He was flaming in his cheeks. Red from alcohol and redder from embarrassment. He looked Two-Bit shaking wildly in his torn up sneakers up and down and he bounded down the steps, cursing at him, shouting threats. My alarm felt red on my skin. Two-Bit, hearing him, ran behind the officer, using him as both a human shield and human teddy bear. "Look at him, Officer, look! The jackass is wild!"

Just like the sea, he's a bundle of nerves whose waves eroded stone. I actually like the boy.

That explains why when the two older boys stood up and Johnny explained Dally's shift was now over, I stood up alongside them. As we walked down to the floor grounds, Two-Bit threw an arm around my shoulder and asked if I too was scared for my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for another kudos! This being my first time publishing on this site and the first time to overall write in quite a while now, I'm so enthused to be received well! I disabled hits to avoid focusing on the numbers, but nonetheless it feels nice to be heard and accepted. Another chapter tomorrow! :)


	5. He Says He Doesn't Date

"Aye, Dally!" Two-Bit cupped his mouth with one hand. The right one was preoccupied dangling over my shoulder still.

'Dally' was fine. He turned and he looked far from the typical gentleman. He changed out of uniform into a penny-colored leather jacket, a white shirt, and jeans, a simple outfit but it still failed to hide a hint of his muscular outline. His facial features were squarish but rough around the edges. His brown hair was shaggy but it supported his careless look, and unlike his friends, it didn't have a hint of gel in it. While I stole a second to look at him, he took his time looking at me. And unlike me, who deliberately learned how to be subtle with my drinks, he made no attempt to hide his looking.

"Who's the pretty broad you're slimin' over, Two?" He met us in the middle. He stood tall, hands in his pockets.

Ponyboy stood by my side and Johnny by Two-Bit. He kept his arm in its place. "This is Jackie." He let go and gestured to my entire being, walking to the jockey and then hanging his arm around his head. A bit awkward considering Dally has a few inches over him. He has almost a whole foot over _me_. "She said she'll take us out to eat. I'm thinkin' Papi's Pizza Parlor."

Dally cooly raised his eyebrows, hearing Two-Bit but looking at me.

"Yeah, I was thinking as two growing teenagers," I gestured to myself and Ponyboy. "He wouldn't stop looking at Ponyboy's fries," I motioned to Johnny. "And since Two-Bit said he hadn't eaten in fifteen minutes, we could all use some food in our system. Especially you, First Place." He smirked.

"Let's go then."

We separated in the parking lot and I handed Ponyboy the keys. It was silent when we clamored in and as we were on the road. Ponyboy looked too occupied with his thoughts to say anything but he wanted to say something. I could feel eyes on my face as I watched people disappeared and appeared in my line of sight outside the window. But I'm not one to work to pry, so he can say it on his own accord.

Two-Bit's a funny fellow, annoying albeit, but it'd be nice to have him around in pint-sized pieces of time. He's a charming guy. If only not for those damn sideburns I would pursue him otherwise. I could tell he's no stranger to girls around town though. He has too much charm and social grace not to. Some girls at my school would buckle in the knees for his sense of humor in spite of his hair and some would buckle _because_ of it. 

I probably won't talk much to Johnny after today since he's so quiet. Maybe in group settings but certainly not by our lonesome. He's handsome undeniably. He looks at his friends with such adoration in his eyes, I'm drawn to him. When Two-Bit called that intoxicated man a jackass, his delight materialized so prettily with his laugh and smile. Someone with that face, I would otherwise flirt with. Usually, they retreat away into themselves but overall draw into me in their little actions. But with him, I had no signs of such. Not a single bashful glance. No turns to hide his smile. I know when to fold.

But Dally's in play. From the moment I walked towards him with his friends, I could tell he was in play. He doesn't glance because he doesn't break contact. He doesn't turn away, he watches the girl turn away. Whether to play along or let him win is the question.

"Hey," Ponyboy said. Without facing away from the road, his eyes darted to meet mine then back to the road. I waited for him to continue. Silence reemerged. Ponyboy felt the spokes of awkwardness by the empty conversation. His tongue darted between his lips and his eyes darted again, less cautious, more desperate. _Use your big boy words now._ "So, Dally likes you..." His words were slow. _You regret them as you said them, huh?_ I chose to raise an eyebrow, pressuring him to continue on. "But Dally doesn't date? You know?" His glances were at the speed of today's horses. His grasp on the wheel tightened and as much as the situation amused me, my laugh came out dry.

"The last thing I want to do is date Dally." My certainty only seemed to arouse more questions within Ponyboy. Whatever they may be, he bit them back and our ride to the restaurant continued in silence.

The restaurant was far overdue its renovations. Entering the perimeter, there was a sign for passing drivers to see: a yellow trapezoid tabled a bulkier box, its edges the same marigold color. On the box was bold lettering spelling out the restaurant's name. Papi's Pizza Parlor. Except the second word has been crossed out with black spray paint and on that line was in bright, eye-catching, capitalized letters: PENIS. Either the manager doesn't care or it's been fixed and redone enough times for the manager to stop caring.

Inside was thankfully in better condition. The walls were lined from ceiling to floor planks all round. Round oak tables teetered on the edge of discomfort as they crammed people in their seats. Two-Bit, Johnny, Dally, Ponyboy, and I seated ourselves at one of the circular tables, one of the few left but the most clean with only napkins and water circles left on the surface. 

A waitress came over. "Welcome to Papi's Pizza Parlor, my name is Mary Anne and I'll be serving y'all today, can I start you off with any drinks today?" She didn't pause between her statements. They all shot off her tongue in a single, long and drawn-out exhale. Her voice held emotion. Just lacked energy.

Dally spoke up, "How 'bout a smile, Mary Anne?" He leaned back into the chipped, wooden chair, smirking. Her eyes rolled and the edges around her notepad creased as her grasp tightened. _What a dog._ Still, I kept my silence and skimmed the menu. A single page laminated that listed various topping options, sides, desserts, and drinks to pick from.

"Lemonade please," I intervened. Ponyboy turned his head to the waitress at my cue. Two-Bit voiced his own and Johnny's choices in drink and so did Dally. Too bad he felt the need to continue opening his mouth. As he failed to get the waitress to bed with him, I spotted a hallway. Over the opening, it read "BATHROOMS". An arrow beside the "B" poked out the wall and pointed to the space with a sharp angle. I excused myself.

"You 'kay?" Ponyboy asked.

"Fine. I just need to freshen up." I left behind the car crash that some people call a conversation and entered the hallway, choosing the door on the right. Four sunburst-colored stalls lined one wall. The bottom half of the walls were tiled white squares, and the upper half was covered by a gaudy, pumpkin paper. Floral and artificial scents drowned me. A girl eyed me while half-heartedly tossing her used paper towel into the full trash bin, it falling into the accumulating puddle of rough, starfish napkins onto the floor. I positioned myself in front of the mirror in between the two sinks at the counter. I shuffled through my handbag in search for my mascara.

 _Poor Mary Anne. This place is crappy as is_ , the leftmost stall sounded out a flush behind me. _Dally doesn't have a place making things more difficult for her._ Satisfied by the length of my lashes, I moved onto my cheeks. _He's handsome and he's sure as hell as aware of it._ The girl shuffled out her stall, and I moved on to right sink, subsequently putting space between us. I went for my lip gloss and quickly retracted my hand. _I'm about to eat, the hell am I doing?_

I left and there was the devil. Leaning against the wall, leg out, hands in pockets, obnoxiously blocking the small space of the hallway. "You got an attitude for a Soc." He leaned deeper, putting more weight on his hind leg and effectively blocking me more from leaving.

I could still walk over his leg. Tall as he may be, he's not a giant. Or I could tell him to screw himself, but I'm never that hot-tongued when someone tries me for the first time. He obviously has some image of me already in his head and I don't like what he's thinking.

"What's a Soc? I take it better than you?" I put my hands on my hips.

"You don't know what's a Soc?"

"Would I be asking if I did?" I shot back in an instant. He paused for a minute, his lips slowly moving into a smirk, and his top row of teeth peeked out smooth lips. _How are they so smooth, what the hell?_ His arms crossed. "You new here?"

 _He didn't come here to ask for my life story._ "Two-Bit can tell you." I went to maneuver around his leg but he stopped me, standing and putting a backhand in front my chest.

"Aye, _chill_." He moved to face me. His lips _are_ smooth. Two pretty pink lines, and inviting. Especially when he shut up. _Just how are his lips smooth? Even Ponyboy's lips are cracked_. His eyes gleamed, and I prepared myself. "I'm jus' concerned, 'is all. Why such a long face?"

I furrowed my eyebrows and crossed my arms. "How so?" He tutted but those lines were still drawing upwards.

"Come on, Miss _Lemonade_ , why you spoilin' my fun?" I thought back to the redheaded waitress with chipped nail polish. How she retreated from Dally's advances. The way "lemonade" didn't cascade off my tongue as I usually talked. I was deadpan. Unhumored. I didn't find the circumstances as amusing as Dally who took delight in the woman's discomfort.

"Does your mother know you talk to women that way?" I drawled.

He snapped into an intimidating expression. Nostrils flaring and tight lips. His voice, usually deep, felt dark like closets and walk-in theatres. It was an attempt to be intimidating, and I clutched my handbag tighter. _I'm in public. His friends are right outside. He wouldn't try anything._ And excitement filled me.

He was closer now. I had to move my head back and my neck felt a strain at the sudden angle. "Your daddy knows you go out with strangers?" Either he or his clothes smelled like cigarette smoke. I wouldn't know.

"Does your mother know you try to scare eighteen-year-old girls?" I maintained a hard expression and his didn't falter. His head fell a bit only. His words were quieter but I can hear him just as well as before. I almost moved my weight onto the toes of my heels and used him as a ledge, but I kept to my position. Crossed arms and steady eyes.

"Well, your daddy know you tell strangers you're eighteen?" His countenance fell, and he smirked, but he quickly drew away his face. He broke apart to push open the swinging door of the men's room with a steady walk and a high head. A sense of pride bloomed in myself as well. _He's not a gentleman, that's for sure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't post tomorrow as I've said I was and I apologize! I was busy reading other people's works and I found new ships and it was just a whole mess of angst and fluff. I am the mess in my life. :))


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